Dawn of Xander
by Muad'zin
Summary: Xander puts on a different costume for Halloween. Because all Eldar MUST answer the call! BtVS/W40K crossover
1. Prologue

**Dawn of Xander**

Xander puts on a different costume for Halloween. Because all Eldar MUST answer the call!

* * *

Usually I'm not a big fan of leaving stuff unfinished as my current Original of the Species story is still far from complete. But having once again played way too much Dawn of War 1 (DoW2 sucks, they should have really named it something else as it's got nothing in common with DoW1) the only way I could get back to writing was by feeding my plot bunny. And it had developed a taste for grimdark much!

Lately I've wanted to do a Halloween fic, so why not do a 40K one? Most Halloween/Warhammer crossovers that I've found seem to be Imperial based, so far I've read Imperial Guard, Inquisition, a feckin' Grey Knight (how awesome is that? Well, quite a lot actually! Even if it does do a lot of Buffybashing), the God Emperor of Mankind himself. There's a Space Marine story going on, there's an Ork story, one extremely short Chaos story and a Necron one. But no Eldar so far.

I like the Eldar. Yeah, they're the Lords of Status Quo thanks to poor (or maybe lazy) GW writing but I got a thing for almost extinct cultures. I've never played a tabletop game or did the 40K miniature thing, but if I did I would go Eldar. Something about them has always fascinated me. In Dawn of War they're my favorite race. I also like Space Marines, as any loyal subject of the Emprah should, but I like the space elves as well. There should be more BtVS/Eldar crossover instead of LoTR crossover fics, if only because the Eldar would skullf*** that pussy Legolas for the pussy that he is and laugh at him doing the nasty with Buffy because she's just a lowly Mon-Keigh. All the arrogance, racism and haughtiness of the Imperium, but instead of spread out over a million worlds just concentrated in a few craftworlds. Talk about efficiency?

Just to challenge myself the chapters will be shorter, rather then the epic walls of text my readers are familiar with. I have no idea where I'm going to take this story. It's just something to get me back into the habit of writing again instead of playing Dawn of War all the time (I'm proud to say I broke the habit!). It might grow into its own epic story, it might turn into a series of shorts. Time and reviews will tell.

One thing though, this story has now been written. I know some of you who like to review come up with interesting suggestions for plot bunnies, and feel free to submit as they might be used for a different story, but this story is already written and finished. Feel free to suggest possible plotbunnies for a sequel though, or anything else that might spark ye olde plotbunny.

Alright, time for the obligatory. Let us never forget the true Gods who came up with this stuff long before I did. All hail Whedon, them dudes at Games Workshop, your spiritual lieges Matt Ward and Rowboat Girlyman whom you should all praise and flagellate yourself for not being as awesome as they are. And of course whoever else I still cannot be arsed to Google up. I know, it's bad. But you know who you are and what you own better then I do. No rights reserved! All copyrights cheerfully ignored. I'm just playing with this stuff to entertain myself and my readers. I own nothing! In fact this might even result in additional sales/fans for these franchises. Honest!

* * *

**Prologue**

**'The random hand of faith delivers me to you'**

AN: _Where our conquering hero journeys to a certain shoppe and discovers something about himself and what the universe has to offer. In short, as is usually the case in this particular genre, he finds an AWESOME suit!_

* * *

Stupid Angel!

Yet again that dickless twerp was all that was on Buffy's mind. Now she was even going to dress up for Halloween as some 18th century noble woman just to please his undeadedness.

Truly sickening!

Still, business as usual as far as Xander was concerned. When it came to Buffy and his love for her the universe made him just as much its buttmonkey as it did with everything else in life. A sad life indeed. He would probably have a sad death too, probably when Buffy wasn't around one day to protect him on the account of her doing the nasty with Angel. But then at least he would die with some symmetry. Not many people could say that, right?

To truly prove to the world that he, Xander Harris, was indeed 'the buttmonkey' that troll Snyder had 'volunteered' him to lead a small group of children around during Halloween night. Hallelujah!

And the crap shall rain downeth on thee forever!

As Buffy was cooing over some expensive dress with Willow cooing in cheerleader support Xander had wandered off, on the account there was only so much cooing and aahing and Angel related chick talk he could stomach. So he browsed the shop for a simple toy gun instead. As the $2 king of cheap costumes Xander needed just that, a $2 plastic toy gun to finish off his old army surplus store uniform. Even though most people thought he was _that_broke that $2 was his limit, actually he wasn't. Unlike other people however he felt that wasting anything more then $2 on a costume you're going to wear once was a waste of good money. Money that could be used on more fruitful things. Like his get out of Sunnyhell free road trip where he was going to see the world after graduation for instance. But as luck had it some kid just grabbed the last toy gun before he could.

And the crap shall rain downeth on thee forever!

The next logical step of course would have been to go to a toy store instead. But he hadn't come to the costume shop on his own. And since he was waiting for the girls to finish their shopping he more or less had to stick around. Occasionally looking at an object of interest.

A Star Trek phaser?

An actual original series prop?

For $30?

Cool, but way too expensive. And he would have to get a Starfleet uniform. And somehow he didn't think that Jonathan would part with his. It was also too short for him as well. Not to mention a bit flabby around the waistline. So he wandered on to the next item of interest.

A Star Wars lightsaber?

It was a large fluorescent strip light with a handle attached to it. Interesting. Picking it up Xander noticed a push pull switch and as he switched it on with a hum the lightsaber came to life with a red glow.

"Sithy," Xander said approvingly, swishing out around, with the lightsaber making the right kind of sounds.

This could work. All he needed were some black clothes, a black hooded cape and Darth Xander would be free to roam the streets this night. Oh yeah, this was so going to work. Dark Side, here I co…..

$75? No way! Too expensive!

Saddened Xander turned off the lightsaber and put it down again.

And the crap shall rain downeth on thee forever!

Next he saw a Colonial Viper Pilot helmet and cape. All original props of the show. And at least $50 each.

Cool!

To bad that show was so cheesy. I mean casino and western planets?

Also still too much.

A Saiyan warrior's battle armor. How cool was that? Kamehameha this, Angel! And Larry too for good meas…..

$50? No way!

Besides, Dragonball Z was gay anyway. All those endless 25 episodes long powerups with faces looking like they were constipated. _SO_ not his thing. Besides, if you're going to dye your hair blonde and style it upwards at least go for something cool, like a punk rocker, not some 18th century style wig.

What's next? A Minbari fighting pike? Now that was awesome. And only $5. It would appear that with the show now having moved over to TNT and lower ratings this gem had now dropped in value. A sad thing for what was still his favorite television show.

Either that or it was defective.

Xander shook it for a moment to see if it was massive, but he could hear the extensions rattling inside. Then, when he pressed a small round circle the pike extended. It was now more then three feet in length. Barely enough to be a real fighting pike, but then again, he was only going to get a tiny toy gun anyway to complete his cheap ass soldier outfit.

Oh yeah, he was so going to make this worth. Doing some mental gymnastics Xander tried to find ways on how to dress himself as a Ranger. He'd probably have to raid Willow's father's wardrobe to complete his outfit, but he could do it. Enthilza! We live for the one, we die for the o…

Then Xander saw something that almost made him drop the fighting pike as his jaw hit the floor. Putting the pike back where he had found it Xander walked to the back of the shop. There, hidden behind a rack of costumes something had caught his attention. Something familiar, something…..

Pushing aside the costumes Xander revealed one other costume and sucked in his breath, too stunned to breathe.

"It can't be," he finally said as he reached out and took the tall conical helmet, adorned with many runes. In disbelief Xander stared at the helmet. On a whim Xander put it over his head and while it was a snug fit, it was a fit nonetheless.

"This! Is! Awesome!" Xander said excited as he reached out and found it even came with a long sword. One that he instantly recognized.

It was a witchblade.

The costume he had found was that of an Eldar Farseer.

* * *

AN: _The sad thing is, I actually own one of those lightsabers. They! Are! Awesome! Eats batteries like a mofo though. L_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**'Shall I divine your next move?'**

* * *

AN: _Reading some of you guys reviews I must say two things. First, thank you of course. Reviews are nourishment for the soul for writers. Secondly an explanation, while this is indeed a W40K crossover, this is also a first and foremost an attempt at deconstruction of the 'Xander gets a power' Halloween genre.. _

_The big problem with posting at seems to be paragraph spacing. For some reason keeps on removing them. Usually I prefer a 5 line break between paragraphs. If anyone knows of a trick to use other then inserting horizontal lines it would be most welcome.  
_

* * *

Looking at the Farseer costume was like being transported back in time.

Back in time to a happier day. When Jesse was still alive.

Wasn't it odd? You could totally forget about somebody and then suddenly the strangest thing would bring him back. Remind you of who he was and how you, terribly, deeply, still missed him. How you would give your life to have him back again.

Deep fond memories of the three of them, he, Willow and Jesse, playing endless bouts of Warhammer at Jesse's place.

Oddly enough it was Willow's father who knew the love of his daughter's dearest friends for all thing science fiction who had brought back four starter sets for four different armies for them to play with. And who then acted surprised when it became a minor obsession for the three of them to the point that he told them to 'go find somewhere else to play with them before it drives me nuts and I throw them away!'. That's how all the stuff had ended up at Jesse's place.

They never bothered to paint the miniatures. They had neither the patience nor the money to that. Besides, it was more fun that way because you weren't bound to playing with a fixed chapter/legion/craftworld/clan. Fed up playing Ultrasmurfs? Now they're Space Wolves. Now bring me some mead and wenches! Fed up with booze and chicks? Now they were Imperial Fists. Now keep calm and fortify Terra!

Naturally being the research girl that she was it was Willow who became rule girl, memorizing those battered old codices by heart. Xander never could be bothered to precisely study the rules, neither did Jesse. So whatever she ruled, they believed without question.

Even though at times some of her rulings were suspiciously slanted in her favor.

Xander had preferred playing Space Marines, the noble super human warriors of the Emperor. Kicking foul xeno and traitor ass for the Imperium of Man! Either that or Chaos Space Marines, the evil super human warriors of Chaos set out to ravage the Imperium of the Corpse Emperor for the Gods of Chaos. Although in retrospect his obsession with genetically enhanced super human warriors probably did hint at a slight inferiority complex on his part bigger then the Empire State Building.

So maybe, possibly, come to think about it, the thought of becoming a super human warrior monk implanted with the Emperor's geneseed was probably indicative of something shrink worthy. But come on, those guys looked cool! And the only thing more cooler right now then finding an Eldar Farseer costume would have been to find an Adeptus Astartes power armor suit.

Extra bonus points with cherries on top if it was Terminator armor!

Of the Space Wolves!

Because of them being Vikings!

Vikings in space!

Although a Khorne Berseker suit would have been supreme icing on the cake as well.

Blood for the Blood God!

Skulls for the Skull Throne!

Kill! Maim! Burn!

Black Templar would also be extremely acceptable because they took no shit from anyone in the Imperium, being on their constant Crusade, and they were basically all Khorne Berserkers at heart anyway.

Here, neophyte, hold this lascannon while I charge that Carnifex with my sword!

Oh, yeah, the very thought alone was giving him a serious case of the jigglies.

He had even created his own unique Space Marine armies. The Dark Knights were his Imperial alter ego chapter, paragons of goodness, smithing foul xenos and blasphemous traitors. All dressed in black with a yellow shoulder pauldron with a certain symbol that would probably have DC Comics' copyrights lawyers go berserk. And then there were the Sunnyhell Bloodletters, a depraved Khorne worshipping warband of the World Eaters Legion, pillaging and raping Sunnydale. For the lulz. Always for the lulz. And the skulls of course.

You'd think that the anarchous nature of the Orks would appeal to Jesse and his carefree devil may care attitude. Or that Willow would have been drawn to the strictly regimented nature of the Eldar. And yet the exact opposite happened. Somehow playing the Orks allowed Willow to break free of her self imposed walls and let her inner WAAAAGH shine through, after which sheer anarchy would always follow. Whereas Jesse, who normally couldn't think ahead for three steps if his life depended on it, suddenly became a scheming Eldar chess master that would give Eldrad himself a run for his money.

Life could be funny that way.

"Wills, you gotta see this," Xander called as he turned around to look for Willow and Buffy. But he couldn't find them as somehow they had left the store. And considering the now empty mannequin it appeared that Buffy had gotten the dress that she wanted. That left Xander a little forlorn and feeling abandoned. All the while still wearing the Farseer helmet.

"Yup, that's how much I matter these days," he sighed and returned to the costume.

It really was an awesome costume though, Xander thought as he examined it further. It even had its own shuriken pistol. Xander was sorely tempted to get it, but the price tag…..

As he looked at the costume Xander was struck by two thoughts. First, he should go over to Jesse's parents, get those old Warhammer armies back and introduce the game to Buffy and Giles. Sure, Buffy might balk at some stupid game, but Giles was British and Warhammer was after all a British game. They probably all played it back home. Especially the Watcher's Council. Who judging by Giles just had to be the biggest collection of upstuck nerds on the other side of the ocean. And with Giles playing Buffy would join too. Extra bonus points for her now no longer spending time with Deadboy. Who couldn't play because there were only four armies…..

It was going to be sweet!

The second thing was that the more Xander looked at the costume, the more he felt compelled to get it. It was like having found the holy grail of Halloween costumes. The only thing that could top it would have been Darth Vader's outfit and voicebox, or of course that suit of Space Marine power armor.

Screw the Vader suit! Space Marines kick Vader's ass so hard he'd lose whatever was left of him that was still alive. Especially Black Templars would. Suffer not the wytch to live!

But the price…..

Doing some mental accounting Xander wasn't sure he could afford it, even if he dug in his post high school road trip savings. Probably not even if he emptied all of his savings.

There was a reason after all why he was the two-dollar costume king after all.

But the costume…..

Jesse would have loved it, huge Eldar nerd that he was. He'd probably sink himself into creditcard debt for life just to get this costume. That and for getting a chance at Cordelia, queen of mean. Basically his only two failings.

He had to get it. If only as a tribute to Jesse so his soul finally could be put to rest.

"Found something interesting?" a British sounding voice said suddenly behind him. Turning around Xander saw the shopkeeper standing behind him. Smiling.

For a moment he looked like a predator about to kill.

"Uh, maybe?" Xander said, his voice sounding a little muffled from underneath the helmet.

"It's exquisite, is it not?" the shopkeeper smiled, "a one of a kind. Nothing like it exists on this planet."

"Yeah, I suppose it is," Xander nodded, then he asked hopeful, "You don't happen to have a…., uh, um, Space Marine armor lying about somewhere?"

The shopkeeper gave him an odd look, like he had no idea what Xander was talking about. Which told him two things. First, that there was no Space Marine outfit somewhere in the back. Which was really sad in way because, well, Space Marines! Second, that his assumption that just because you were British you knew Warhammer needed to be revised. It would appear that he would have to bank on Giles being a huge secret closet nerd instead.

Which still seemed like a sure bet.

The British shopkeeper looked at him funny for a moment, then his eyes lit up again. Like he had realized something. Or worse, come to a conclusion.

"Oh, I get it, you mean another outfit from this particular science fiction universe," he said as he smiled again, "I'm afraid not. This is it really. Like I said, a one off. But it's still one hell of a unique costume."

"True," Xander echoed and took off the helmet, "I'd love to have it, but….."

"I understand," the shopkeeper said understanding, "You know I had two other potential buyers for this costume already today? But they also declined. They said, and you have to correct me if I say it wrong, it was from the wrong Craftworld. Did I say it correctly? That if had been from, what was it, Biel-tan or Ulthwé, they would have snatched it up in a heartbeat, but this particular Craftworld was just too obscure for their taste. They went for a Jedi outfit instead. Now it would seem to be destined to never find an owner."

There were other Warhammer nerds in Sunnydale? Wow, Xander thought surprised. Then he looked at the costume again.

"No, it's fine as it is," Xander said, "I couldn't care less about the colors. It's just that I could never afford it."

"Aaaah," the shopkeeper said slowly as he understood Xander's dilemma, then he put his hand on Xander's shoulders, "Oh, nonsense. I feel quite moved to make you a deal you can't refuse."

"You sure, cause I ain't got a lot of money?" Xander said a little weary. This was after all Sunnydale where there existed no such things as a good thing and if it was too good to be true, it usually was.

But then again, the costume…

"Look," the shopkeeper said as he took the helmet, placed it back over Xander's head and then guided him towards a mirror, "I can stick to the asking price but then I would only burden myself with something that I can't sell. It would only take up place in my inventory. Far better for me to offer you a good deal and free up some valuable store space. And who knows. If whoever made this learned that it found a loving customer he might be tempted to create that suit of armor that you want."

Placing Xander in front of the mirror, the shopkeeper stepped away to let Xander admire himself.

"I say you look quite the alien prince with just that helmet alone," he said, "Imagine it with the whole ensemble?"

"It's a Farseer," Xander said softly, "not an alien prince."

"Whatever you say," the shopkeeper grinned having no idea what the boy was talking about. All he could think was that whatever the hell this costume was, this was probably going to be fun! He If he had actually known a little about the universe this costume came from he might have thought differently.

Or where it had come from….

* * *

At Spike's warehouse the vampire was busy watching a video that one of his minions had taken of one of Buffy's fights a few nights ago.

"Here it comes," Spike said to the vampire operating the camera, "rewind that. Let's see that again."

The did as commanded, rewinding the tape.

"Oh, she's tricky," Spike chuckled, like he had discovered her big secret, "Baby likes to play. You see that? The way she stakes him with that thing? That's what's called resourceful. Rewind it again."

The vampire minion was just about to rewind when in walked Drusilla.

"Miss Edith needs her tea," she said dreamily.

"C'mere, poodle," Spike said turning towards her, extending a hand.

"Do you love my insides?" Drusilla asked curious, "The parts you can't see?"

"Eyeballs to entrails, my sweet," Spike said as he pulled her in, "That's why I've got to study this Slayer. Once I know her I can kill her. And once I kill her you can have your run of Sunnyhell. Get strong again."

"Don't worry. Everything's switching. Outside to inside," Drusilla said as she breathed into Spike's neck, "It makes her weak."

"Really?" Spike said curious, "Did my pet have a vision?"

"Do you know what I miss?" Drusilla said distracted, "Leeches."

"Come on, talk to Daddy," Spike said, trying to get Drusilla back on track, "This thing that makes the Slayer weak? When is it?

"Tomorrow," Drusilla replied.

"Tomorrow's Halloween," Spike said surprised, "nothing happens on Halloween. Nothing _ever_ happens on Halloween."

"Someone's come to change it all," Drusilla said, "Someone new. Chaos will make the Slayer weak and the weak strong. Strike quickly, while the enemy slumbers. For the destroyer will guide him."

As she walked away Spike gave her an odd look. Sometimes she made no sense whatsoever. Then he turned his attention back to the camera footage of the Slayer.

"Now where were we?"

* * *

RING!

As the doorbell rang down below Buffy smiled at her friend Willow, standing inside her bedroom, now dressed as the little hooker that could. She both looked absolutely yummily delicious and at the same time totally out of place. She had the looks to pull it off though, if only she could muster the confidence.

Well, hopefully she would find the courage to do so because now that Xander was here she had no more time to give her another pep talk.

"Oh! That's Xander," Buffy said, then she smiled, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. O-o-okay," Willow said in a tone of voice that said she was anything but ready to go out in her skimpy outfit.

"Cool!" Buffy said holding up two thumbs signaling her approval and hopefully giving Willow some last second encouragement, "I can't wait for the boys to go non-verbal when they see you!"

Then, while Willow was still busy trying to cover herself up, Buffy went downstairs as fast as she could in the restrictive 18th century noblewoman's dress. She was just at the door when it rang again.

RING!

"Coming!" she said and opened the door to let Xander in. But when she did she saw no Xander. Instead a strange figure dressed in long robes, strange stylized wings on his back and a large conical hat adorned with strange runes stared at her. Then it spoke.

"Eldrad Ulthran here to see the Mon-keigh princesses."

AN: _Are you feeling it yet? ;)_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

'The Pieces are in place, it is time for us to make our move'

* * *

AN: _Sorry for the late posting, but everytime I wanted to post the next chapter, something came up. The perils of the holidays I guess. Man, I didn't you guys to go this nuts. Which is both extremely flattering and also quite intimidating at the same time._

* * *

"Eldrad Ulthran here to see the Mon-keigh princesses," the imposing figure said with a slightly muffled voice.

"Uh, this is the Summers' home," Buffy said a little unsure as she watched the strange figure, "I have no idea where the Monty's live but you might have better luck across the street."

The strange clad figure gave her a short stare through its intensely black lenses.

"Foolish Mon-keigh princess," the figure sniggered, "You have no idea and….. I must say Buffy! Lady of Buffdom, Duchess of Buffonia, I am in awe! I completely renounce spandex!"

Buffy gave the strange figure an odd look, then she realized.

"Xander?" she said tentatively, "Is that you?"

"There is no Xander in here, only Zuul," the figure replied with thinly veiled amusement and an ominous tone of voice.

"I thought you were El Dorito Supreme or something a moment ago," Buffy said as she gave what she thought was Xander a weary eye.

"I am known by many names, Mon-keigh princess," Xander said and made a slight curtsy, "I must say you wear that dress very well, Buff."

"Why, thank you, kind sir," Buffy said thankfully and curtsied, "And I have to say that is the most stunning costume I have ever seen."

"Yes, it suits me, does it not, mortal?" Xander said and pretended to dust off his sleeves.

"What are you supposed to be?" Buffy asked.

"Why, an Eldar Farseer of….," Xander tried to say but then Buffy interrupted him.

"Wait, Willow's gotta see this," Buffy said and called up to her room, "Will, you gotta see this. Xander has the most amazing outfit I've ever seen!"

Buffy then leaned forward to Xander and whispered.

"If you think you're amazing looking, wait till you see…"

As she could hear the sound of Willow coming down the stairs she and Xander turned their heads. Only to see Willow coming down the stairs dressed in a ghost sheet with the word BOO on the front in large bold letters.

"...Casper," Buffy said somewhat disappointed as she finished her sentence.

"Heya, Will! That's a fine boo you got there," Xander said chip.

While Buffy frowned upon Willow for having chickened out at the last moment Willow was in awe over Xander's costume.

"Xander? Is that you?" she said stunned.

"There is no Xander here," Xander said and pulled out a gun which he aimed at Willow's head, "Begonne foul servant of Chaos for I am Eldrad Ulthran of Craftworld Ulthwé!"

What the hell is Xander pulling a gun at Willow, Buffy thought surprised, even if it was a fake space ray gun. But before she could intervene Willow erupted in happy Willowbabble.

"OHMIGOD XANDER! Is that a real Shuriken pistol? Where did you get a Shuriken pistol? Where did you get an Eldar Farseer costume? That is so awesome! And it's a good one too, not like those fake ones you see on pictures on the internet, from those cosplay newsgroups, this is amazing, it even has the right runes and all, it must have cost you a fortune and …."

"Hey, slow down there, Will," Buffy interjected, then she eyed her friend weary, "You actually recognize this, uh, here shindig?"

"Of course, Buffy," Willow said enthusiastically as she nodded underneath her sheat, "That's a costume of an Eldar Farseer, down to the last detail. It really is awesome, I wish I had one just like it."

Yeah, probably because it would give you an even better excuse to completely cover up, Buffy thought disapprovingly.

"Again," Buffy said, "How do you know all this?"

"It's from Warhammer, Buffy," Willow said matter of fact, as if that explained everything.

"Again," Buffy stated, "For those who live in the real world, how do you know all this?"

"It's a game, Buffy," Willow explained, "It's a game that you play with these miniature armies."

"In the grim darkness of the future there is only war," Xander added in a slow and ominous tone of voice.

"It's kinda like Dungeons and Dragons, Buffy," Willow continued, "only instead of everything being on paper you move real armies around on a giant table."

"And that makes it less dorky?" Buffy said, then she immediately looked apologetic as she regretted her words, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Channeling my inner Cordelia here. Inner Cordelia bad. Inner Buffy good."

"Might I add that your outer Buffy is no slouch either," Xander quipped.

"We used to play this all the time," Willow said as she again looked at some of the runes on Xander's costume.

"Then how come I never heard of it?" Buffy asked curious. Upon which Xander and Willow looked at each other.

"We, uh, kinda, um, stopped playing after, um, Jesse…," Xander stammered a little hesitantly. He didn't need to finish his sentence though as Buffy immediately understood. She had barely gotten to know Jesse but she still knew from the awkward silences that followed whenever someone mentioned his name that he had been their biggest friend and that in a way she was even now only filling his shoes.

Barely.

This used to be their thing. And now that he's dead they stopped playing it because it causes them to remember, she thought, feeling a twinge of sadness. Many people had died since she became the Slayer. People that she could have saved if she had tried better, been that perfect little Slayer that Giles always wanted her to be.

People like Jesse.

"I'm surprised that you didn't get a Space Marine outfit," Willow asked Xander, "They used to be your thing."

"Oh, believe me, Will, if that guy had one you'd be staring at a God of War right now, killing foul xenos and blasphemous traitors for the Emperor with blessed bolter rounds," Xander said and took off his helmet, "But he only had this, and you know what, in a way it's better. You know Jesse loved the space elves. This is, um, kinda my, uh…"

Willow nodded understandably and took Xander's hand.

"I understand," she said softly, Buffy clearly able to see despite the sheet covering her that she was feeling really emotional right now, "It's a nice thing."

"I thought so too," Xander said, looking quite emotional as well.

The scene looked so poignant that Buffy wanted to yell 'group hug'. But this was one group that she wasn't part off. And in a way that kinda hurt.

"You know what?" Willow said, suddenly sounding enthusiastically, "We should totally get those armies and start playing again. With Buffy and Giles that finally makes four!"

"I was thinking exactly the same!" Xander said equally excited, "I call dibs on Chaos though."

Willow gave Xander an angry glare from underneath her sheet.

"How can you wear the costume of an Eldar Farseer and then declare that you want to be Chaos?"

"Maybe cause…., I'm a Dark Eldar Farseer?" Xander suggested tentatively.

"They don't have any Farseers," Willow said beratingly, "And another thing, you can't be Eldrad Ulthran."

"Why not?" Xander asked a little hurt, "I liked Eldrad, he didn't take shit from anyone. Plus he's a dick. He's the mother of all dicks! I like being a dick, on Halloween that is."

"Eldrad's from Craftword Ulthwé, Xander," Willow explained, then she tapped his outfit, "the colors of Ulthwé are black with bone white trim. With the Eye of Isha as its symbol. Yours is green with purple trim. And your rune is the magical helm of Eldanesh. You're from Il-Kaithe."

"The ill cat?" Buffy remarked puzzled.

"Maybe he's on loan?" Xander suggested hopeful, "Maybe they have an officer exchange program?"

"You and Jesse never painted your models," Willow said as she shook her head dejected, "If you had you'd know the difference."

"I see," Xander said disappointed, then he asked hopeful, "So…., do they have any famous Farseers?"

"They had like two lines worth of text in the fluff, Xander," Willow countered as she held up two fingers, "They really, REALLY hate Chaos and they got awesome Bonesingers. That's it."

"Crap!" Xander muttered dejected, "Now I get it why nobody wanted the suit."

"Two things," Buffy said, still not really getting it, "One, if you really want to be El Dorada Supreme, why care what Willow says?. And two, who cares?"

"Buffy, Lady of Buffdom, Duchess of Buffonia, she's Willow," Xander said putting his hand on Willow's sheeted shoulder, "She's rule girl. Before she was research girl extraordinaire she used to be rule girl. She alone had the power to sift through endless tomes of lore and tell us what the actual rules were. When she said we should jump we only asked how high."

"So you're saying you couldn't be bothered to read the rulebook _and_ you didn't have a life," Buffy said to the both of them.

"That's us to a tee," Xander said, then he gestured towards the front door, "Say, Mon-keigh spirit and lady, what say we go to the Eye of Terror and do battle with the Greater Plague demon of Nurgle. Or should I say smaller Plague Demon?"

"You mean school and Snyder, right?" Willow asked.

"That's what I said," Xander said and put the helmet back on, "Shall we go?"

* * *

Going to school in character on Halloween night did have its advantages, Xander thought as he led his little troupe of kids through the streets. For one it allowed you to insult the little troll in his face without getting detention as he had no clue what you were talking about.

Also, as he passed others they were genuinely impressed with his outfit and because they couldn't see that he was 'loser Harris' they even complimented him. Even Larry now thought he looked cool. Wow, maybe he should consider going masked through life from now on.

Yeah, and Buffy would dump Deadboy, pronounce her undying love towards him, they would get marry to an angelic choir of angels play harp, the Hellmouth would close overnight and Snyder would be found dead, hanging in a cheap motel room whilst having looked at porn and wearing female underwear.

Like that was ever going to happen!

Nah, better to enjoy the fun while it lasted, riding out the mellow until the next shitstorm to come his way.

"Trick-or-treat!" his current wards said after yet another door opened.

Suddenly a fell wind began to blow and Xander looked around.

Something was wrong.

"Oh, my goodness, aren't you adorable!" the woman opening the door said as she looked at the little children.

Xander looked around again, feeling the hairs in the back of his neck standing upright. Something was feeling seriously wrong. If only he could put his finger on it. It felt like… Buffy wrong! As in the kind of wrong that she would fight.

"I could've sworn I had more candy," the woman said in the door opening said as it appeared that she was out of candy.

But as she was looking into her empty bucket she failed to notice that the kids in front of her were morphing into the monsters and characters that they were dressed like.

"I'm sorry, mister monster," the woman said as she put the bucket down, "maybe I..."

She couldn't finish her sentence because three little monsters suddenly jumped her and began to attack her. Clawing her, trying to choke her, basically, all out trying to kill her.

Then, suddenly energy erupted between her and the monsters, blasting her back inside and throwing the monsters backwards. The monsters spun around and saw the green and purple clad figure, lightning arcing around his hands.

"Be gone, foul servants of Chaos," the green and purple clad figure spat, venom dripping from every word he uttered with his distorted yet musical tone of voice, "For I will banish you back into the Warp!"

One of the little monsters hissed defiantly at him, upon which the green and purple clad figure aimed one hand at him and warpfire erupted from his hand, strafing the little monster. As it collapsed to the ground the others scattered in fear.

Having chased away the small demonspawn Farseer Cop'lann of Il-Kaithe could finally take a look at his surroundings. Where in Khaine's name was he?

* * *

AN: _Sorry Xander wasn't really Eldrad, but I did say the costume wasn't from Ulthwé. At the time when I wrote this it seemed like an awesome cliffhanger to end a chapter onr. But then the excitement spread like wildfire. Don't worry, Cop'lann can be dickish 'just as planned' too._

_As for Il-Kaithe, when I wrote this they only had like two sentences worth of fluff, even on Lexicanum and 40K-wikia. It seems to have gone up to a whopping six sentences now!_

_ wh40k. lexicanum wiki / Il-Kaithe_  



	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

'**This battle calls for massive firepower'**

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AN: _Sorry for the delay, got some real life interference. Nothing serious, just that it takes me at least an hour to post this story on various websites so when I came home from work I wasn't always in the mood. I also received a huge electronics parts delivery and had about 10 guitar effects pedals to build. My other passion. And they're still not all finished. Damn! Anyway, I'll try to post sooner next time._

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Where in Khaine's name was he?

Looking at the primitive streets and primitive vehicles he was most definitely no longer on the Craftworld. Judging by the style of the vehicles and the buildings it looked very much like a…. Dear Isha! Not them!

Anyone but them!

"Oh thank God, you saved me!" a voice cried out behind him.

Cop'lann turned around and saw an old looking woman looking at him in a mixture of gratefulness and apprehension at the same time.

Oh yeah, that clenched it.

Thrice damned Mon-keighs!

He was on an accursed Mon-keigh planet!

Unlike many of his kind Cop'lann did not just despise the Mon-keigh and the corpse-emperor that they blindly worshipped. In fact, some even called him a Mon-keigh lover because he and his Craftworld had often fought alongside them. Especially Farseers like Eldrad and Taldeer from Ulthwé.

Who themselves tended to behave like dicks towards the Imperium.

Besides it being highly insulting they were also wrong of course. As was always the case with his arrogant kin from Ulthwé. To much stuck in their own smartass arrogance that they didn't see the giant Bloodletter daemon standing in the room. Like Ultwhé Il-Kaithe was located too close to the Eye of Terror for comfort. It was what caused both Craftworlds to have above average numbers of Farseers, both trying to look into the future to find the best possible course to survive.

But where Eldrad had steered Ulthwé into an endless series of seemingly random interventions into Imperial territory, each calculated to deliver the best possible result somewhere down the line, sometimes coming to the aid of the Imperium, sometimes against it, the Farseers of Il-Kaithe favored a different approach. Chaos was the common enemy of all life in the galaxy, Chaos had to be fought and it had to be fought no matter the cost. And no matter the ally.

For its entire history since the Fall of the Eldar Il-Kaithe had fought Chaos wherever it could. And ever since the rise of the Imperium, and even before that, it meant that from time to time one had to fight alongside the lesser races if the forces of Chaos were to be stopped. Even their own debased dark kin if need be.

That didn't mean that like the other Craftworld Il-Kaithe didn't occasionally attack Imperial worlds. Like the other Farseers the Farseers of Il-Kaithe also saw the rise of potential threats happening within the Imperium. And while they preferred to give a warning to the right Imperial authorities more often then not such warnings would fall on deaf ears. While there were many planetary governors, Imperial admirals, Inquistors of the Ordos Xenos and Chapter Masters in Segmentum Obscurus and beyond who were at least willing to listen to Il-Kaithe thanks to its interventions, there were even more who wouldn't.

And even that meager result had cost them greatly in Eldar lives and resources over the years.

And to make it worse they were still distrusted by most Imperial authorities. In no small part thanks to the actions of the other Craftworlds.

And some of the other Craftworlds, especially the Ulthwé and Biel-Tan fanatics, had mocked them for it. That they were irrational slaves to their hatred towards Chaos. That they lacked long term vision for the survival of the Eldar race. They were wrong of course.

Yes, Il-Kaithe fought Chaos wherever it reared its ugly head. And yes that often meant fighting alongside the Imperium. And it paid a heavy price for it. But it was a price paid for through necessity. The Eldar of Il-Kaithe didn't really like humans any more then those of other Craftworlds. He himself could barely stand their stench. He'd love to go all Biel-Tan on them and wipe them all out for the greater good of the Eldar race if he could. They were exactly what the others thought that they were. Boorish, arrogant, rude and stubborn beyond belief.

But the Eldar could not hope to defeat Chaos by themselves. The sad matter of fact was, that big giant Bloodletter standing in the room was that they were a dying race. If they were to stand a chance against Chaos, or even the Tyranids and the Necrons and survive long enough for Y'nnead they needed the Mon-keigh. Only the accursed Mon-keigh bred and spread like rats. If they wanted to stand any chance for survival they needed to use the Imperium as their meat shield. And as far as Il-Kaithe was concerned every Imperial world it saved from Chaos, was one more world that could continue the fight against Chaos and buy more time for the Eldar as well.

Ignoring the Mon-keigh woman's screeching Cop'lann turned around and walked away. Her personal gratitude meant nothing to him right now. He had to ascertain where he was first, and if there were others of his kind. The how of how he got here would come after that. Although it did greatly worry him that he had no idea how he got here. Nor that he couldn't remember what he had been doing recently.

"This is Farseer Cop'lann of Il-Kaithe Craftworld," he spoke into his vox, "Is there anybody out there?"

There was no response.

He tried a few more times without success. Then he stopped. It would appear that there was nobody else. Or if there were that they maintained communications silence. Since nobody but possibly the Necrons or their Dark Kin could tap into Eldar communications that rarely happened. Then Cop'lann closed his eyes and extended his senses.

He immediately recoiled in horror.

Something was really amiss here.

Really amiss.

Eye of Terror amiss.

Another Mon-keigh scream erupted behind him.

"Xander?"

A Mon-keigh woman, no, a youngling yet, came running around a corner towards him.

"Xander!" she said with a big smile of relief on her face, like she knew him.

But since he didn't know her he aimed his Shuriken pistol at her.

"Identify yourself or you will be annihilated," he said calmly.

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"Xander?" Willow said surprised as much to her surprise he aimed his pistol at her.

She had been relieved to find Xander in this current mess, still wearing his green and purple outfit. But to her shock he didn't behave as he should be.

"It's me, Willow!", she said pleading, hoping that he would recognize her.

"I do not know any Willow, little Mon-keigh," Xander replied matter of fact. Crushing her hopes.

"Xander, quite messing around," she said, now starting to sound desperate, "This is no time for jokes. Something's wrong here."

Please don't let him have become like all the others, Willow thought desperately.

"I do not know any Xander either," Xander said. Then she noticed.

His voice!

It had completely changed! Sounding both melodic and distorted at the same time. Ohmigod! Please don't let it be true.

"You," Xander said as he aimed his Shuriken pistol closer to her head, "You seem to know more of what's going on. What in Khaine's name is going on here? What foul Chaos treachery is going on here? And where am I? What is the name of this planet?"

Ohmigod,Willow thought as her brain went into overdrive, if those kids became like their costumes, and I became a ghost, just like my costume, then that means that Xander….., oh no!

Desperately she tried to remember anything regarding Eldar Farseers and the Eldar in general.

Okay, so he's an Eldar Farseer by now, she thought frantically, then a thought of sheer horror entered her mind. Oh god! Please don't let him be Eldrad! What do Eldar Farseers do? They're powerful psykers who can do really nasty things with the power of the Warp and they can look into the future. And they really, really, REALLY don't like humans, thinking we're just lowly animals. And please don't let him be Eldrad cause's he's the biggest dick of them all.

"You don't know me?" she asked trying to sound calm, but inwardly hoping desperately that maybe something of Xander, if even only unconsciously, was still in there.

"I have never seen you before, little Mon-keigh," Xander stated matter of fact.

Oh god, Willow thought horrified. Xander had used the term Mon-keigh before, a racial slur, basically the Eldar N-word for humans. But he had said it in gest. This Xander however, he said it with about as much love like a Nazi had who talked about 'der Juden'.

Behind her more kids who had changed into monsters came running into the street, probably from her group. Seeing the two of them the little monsters came running towards them.

"I suggest you go somewhere else, little Mon-keigh," Xander said, then he tried to push her aside

"No, wait!" Willow said desperately but then Xander's arm pushed right through her. Shocked Xander stepped backwards and brought out his witchblade instead.

"What are you?" he hissed both aghast and outraged, "Foul warp spawn!"

Glancing at the witchblade sword Willow couldn't help but gulp. The Shuriken pistol could not hurt her, that much was obvious, but the witchblade, who knew what it could do? According to the books it was a psychic extension of a Farseer's power. The fluff had all sorts of stories of Farseers doing very nasty things with them. And it was like she could hear it sing.

Sing very unpleasant songs of death and hatred.

She again swallowed and closed her eyes.

"Xander, if you're still in there, or whoever you are now, please listen to me," Willow pleaded desperately, "I'm on your side, I pinky swear! S-something crazy is happening. T-t-the two of us are friends. We b-both dressed up for Halloween, I was dressed as a ghost for Halloween, a-and now I am a ghost. And you were supposed to be this Eldar Farseer, and now I, I-I guess you are a real Farseer."

Then she whispered something that sounded suspiciously much like 'and please don't be Eldrad cause he's a dick'.

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Her ramblings made no sense to him. Halloween, dressing up, being a ghost, they all sounded like the ramblings of a mad little Mon-keigh.

Who happened to have no body at all.

Judging by her scant attire she might even be a Slaaneshi daemonette. Just lacking any tentacles and other mutations they usually came with. And yet he could sense no deceit or malice in her. And the servants of Chaos usually tended to absolutely reek of deceit. And malice

Maybe she was a Mon-keigh psyker who was astrally projecting herself. You never knew with these humans. Despite the supposed rigidity of the Imperium they always managed to surprise you. And many a careful laid out plan by many Farseers had been derailed because of them.

And somehow something inside him told him that he could trust her. Like a strong gut feeling.

He tried to see into the future. Usually to do an in depth reading he would use his seeing stones, but for casual readings just being near a person worked just as well. But to his surprise now he saw nothing. Like she didn't even exist. Which was true in a way. Only her spirit appeared to be here. He could sense her emotions, her fear, her anxiety. Just no possible futures.

"You expect me to believe that?" he finally said wearily.

"I-I-It's true," she said and he could sense that she believed it.

Alright, for now he would trust the little Mon-keigh ghost. She seemed to have some idea as to what was going on. That might be useful. Plus she seemed to know Eldrad Ulthran and his…. 'capricious' nature. That at least indicated some knowledge more then above that of the average Imperial.

There were however the little daemons charging them to contend with though, so Cop'lann aimed his Shuriken pistol at the one closest.

"No! No guns!" the little ghost yelled, "That's still a little kid in there! They're just kids turned into their costumes, they're not real monsters."

"Chaos turns even the most stalwart defender into its servants," he said sternly, "From which there is no return! I have seen it happen a thousand times on a thousand worlds."

For a moment the girl didn't know what to say.

"But they're just kids," she finally said, "Don't you have any kids? Wouldn't you do anything to help them as well?"

For a moment Cop'lann wished he could fire his pistol at the Mon-keigh specter for saying such vile things. Maybe his witchblade could hurt it.

But he could still sense no malice in her. Only fear, lots of fear and concern. And truth. Whatever she was, she really believed what she was saying.

Yeah, he too would be willing to go pretty far to save his own children if they were under the thrall of Chaos. Many of the Eldar's greatest stories and myths were based upon those who had dared to risk it all, for love, family, or even the Craftworld.

"Alright," he said as he holstered his pistol, "We'll do it your way, but it better not cost me, Mon-keigh."

Adding just enough vitriol and disdain on the word Mon-Keigh Cop'lann aimed his hand and unleashed a stream of Warpfire at the demons.

It didn't hurt them, much, but it was enough for their pain = bad reflexes to kick in and after writhing in pain until he stopped his attack they quickly began to flee from his wrath.

"There," he sneered after the little daemons had left, "Happy?"

From the look on his face he could see that she was. Sort of.

"We just need to find...," the girl said as she looked around, then her eyes lit up hopeful, "Buffy!"

The Mon-keigh girl ran away, across the street.

Okay, this was getting odd, he thought. First she wanted his confidence, then she ran away looking for somebody else. Still, that more then anything convinced him that he was dealing with a human. The servants of Chaos usually had a more one tracked mind. Only the Mon-keigh were that flighty.

Curiously Cop'lann followed her, striding confidently. It was obvious that the girl held this Buffy person, whoever she was, in high regard. Maybe he would learn a little more by tagging along. And was not knowing half the battle?

The girl ran towards what would seem like another Mon-keigh girl, wandering around aimlessly, like she was in shock or something. It was a sight Cop'lann remembered from countless campaigns on countless worlds where Chaos had struck unexpectedly. While the Mon-keigh of the Adeptus Astartes always fought with great fervor and tenacity, the Imperial Guard and PDF often did the best they could with the hopeless wargear that the Imperium saw fit to give them, it was the Mon-keigh civilians however who always seemed so hopelessly ill prepared for when war struck them unexpectedly. It had to be because the Imperium preferred to keep its citizens in the dark regarding the true horrors of Chaos.

What was it that the Mon-keigh priests liked to say? Blessed is the mind too small for doubt? Ignorance is a virtue? With such an attitude was it such a wonder that Chaos cults always managed to find new converts? On the Craftworld everybody knew and understood the powers and dangers of Chaos and lived their lives accordingly. He had even argued this point with a few Inquisitors and somehow they never seemed to understand that simple basic fact. Closed minds indeed!

"Buffy! Are you okay?" the girl asked worried as she got hold of the other girl. Before she could answer a mighty roar could be heard coming from another street. Something bad seemed to be stalking the streets.

"This might be difficult," Cop'lann said worried now that he was told not to use his weapons to lethal effects. When it came to the greater servants of Chaos however there was no such thing as a stun setting, only kill, kill, kill! Come to think of it, that basically applied to all servants of Chaos.

"Buffy, what do we do?" the spirit girl asked the other girl, dressed in a large cumbersome pink dress. Foolish Mon-keigh and their ostentatious clothing! Then before the spirit girl got a reply the girl whom she called Buffy fainted.

"Are you sure that she can be of help?" Cop'lann couldn't help but sneer.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

'**The Destroyer guides us'**

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AN: _I was really worried about the previous chapter, it has to be the single most rewritten chapter I've ever done. Anyway, on with the show. And because you guys had to wait so long for the previous one, here's the next one._

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"Are you sure that she can be of help?" Cop'lann couldn't help but sneer as he looked down upon the fainted Mon-keigh girl. Not having a real answer the Mon-keigh spirit girl looked first at him, then at the other girl. Then she began to stir again.

"Buffy, are you alright?" the spirit girl asked worried as the other girl opened her eyes again. Cop'lann examined the girl. For a Mon-keigh she seemed decent looking. She would probably have many Mon-keigh suitors. Of course, judging from her useless and restrictive clothing she was probably of Mon-keigh nobility. Which meant that she was probably completely useless and stupid. Of all the Mon-keigh it were often the zealots of the Ecclesiarchy and the useless nobles who most refused to head the warnings of Il-Kaithe, or any Eldar for that matter. Still, there was something about her that stirred something inside him. Like she was familiar. Some urge to protect her. Truly odd.

"What?" the Mon-keigh noble girl stammered.

"Buffy, are you hurt?" the spirit girl asked concerned.

"Buffy?" the Mon-keigh noble girl said surprised as she sat up, like she didn't recognize the name. That caused the spirit girl to look at him.

"She's not Buffy," she said somewhat dejected, adding to his puzzlement.

"Who is this…., Buffy?" Cop'lann asked curious. Whoever this Buffy was, she obviously meant a great deal to this spirit girl and she seemed to expect that she meant the same to him.

"Oh, this is fun, can you help her up?" the spirit girl sighed deeply, then she turned to the other girl again, "What year is this?"

Meanwhile Cop'lann extended his gauntleted hand towards the girl and she took it. Her eyes looked frightened up to him. There was fear of him in her eyes, but not so much as to debilitate her. Then, as she took his hand a thousand images suddenly assaulted his mind.

She was suddenly blonde. And no longer dim looking. Attractive and smart even. If of course you could ever call a Mon-keigh that.

He saw her fighting a thousand monsters, some of them looking like Mon-keigh but with severely mutated faces.

Others were nightmarish beings straight from the depths of the Warp.

He saw images from her past.

A blonde mutated Mon-keigh daemon killing a man whom she cared greatly about with supernatural strength .

Her burning down a building full of these mutated Mon-keigh daemons.

A Mon-keigh psyker woman calling upon the powers of the Warp wanting to posses her own daughter's body to regain her youth and beauty.

A monstrous insect daemon trying to devour luckless Mon-keigh boys, including one who looked suspiciously much like he did.

A daemon from the Warp possessing a Mon-keigh machine and building a mechanical body for itself.

Facing a horribly mutated Mon-keigh daemon in a cave and dying there. And be brought back to life. Again by someone looking very much like him. If he were a Mon-keigh that is.

Then he saw images from her future.

Having to kill the man that she loved in order to save this world.

Fighting another girl just like her who had fallen to Chaos and who served what appeared to be a Tzeentchian daemon-prince.

Beyond that her future became more shrouded in mists.

Something about a Chaos cyborg and even a daemon God chasing her.

Interesting. Unlike with the Mon-keigh spirit girl he was finally able to get a reading. But even more interesting though was that one thing somehow seemed to become clear.

His and her past and their future were somehow linked.

A lesser Eldar would shrug this off as being impossible. No human could ever have any meaning to one such as him. But Cop'lann had lived too long to dismiss such a thing. Just because a human was an inferior being didn't mean he didn't have a part to play in the tapestry of fate.

"1775, I believe," the girl meanwhile said confused and breathing fast, like she was hyperventilating. Cop'lann looked at the spirit girl and saw that she didn't like the answer either. He knew enough of the Mon-keigh dating system to know that was not how they counted the years. They counted in units of hundreds, followed by what they called was the millennium they lived in, all according to the passing of time on their ancient homeworld called Terra.

But Eldrad had once explained to him that this was just a means to make things simpler because their simple Mon-keigh brains couldn't conceive of big numbers. So when they said the year 981 M41, what they really meant was the year 41.981 according to the calendar of their homeworld. Which meant that the year 1775 was….. Isha's tears! No way! Impossible….

"I-I don't understand," the girl asked frightened, "Who are you?"

"We're friends," Willow tried to explain.

"F-friends of whom? Y-your dress... Everything is strange! How did I come to be here?" the girl asked confused, then she looked at Cop'lann, "Are you a knight, good sir? You bear a mighty sword."

If there was one thing the human mind seemed to be exceptionally good at was either bending or breaking. The latter was easy. He had seen it countless times on countless words. Mon-keigh civilians screaming in panic at the sights of the hordes of Chaos, Guardsmen deserting their posts in the heat of battle.

The former however was also impossibly easy. When faced with the impossible somehow the Mon-keigh mind could conjure up an explanation that would seem totally ludicrous to an Eldar but made perfectly sense to a human. It was something that confounded the Eldar, and played no small part in their derision of the Mon-keigh. But it was also something that explained, at least to Cop'lann, why humans could fight on so tenaciously despite overwhelming odds. This capacity of self-delusion allowed them to bend and survive, where others would break. With the biggest self-delusion of course that ridiculous faith in their Corpse-Emperor of course.

He had no idea what a knight was, although he knew a few Astartes chapters who used the name knight in their names. But a quick look in her mind saw a vision of a Mon-keigh warrior clad in metal, like a puny Astartes, seated upon an a four legged animal. Almost like a poor copy of a Shining Spear. And according to her these knights were paragons of virtue. Well, if it meant this particular form of self-delusion provided her with comfort and more importantly kept her quiet, who was he to rob her of that?

"Yes, I am a knight," Cop'lann said.

If the girl seemed spooked by his strange distorted voice she didn't show it. Instead it seemed to relax her. Once again proving that the Mon-keigh mind was indeed a strange and unfathomable place. Spirit girl gave him a brief look of gratitude for having said what she considered to be a smart thing as well.

"Breathe, okay, breathe. You're gonna faint again," Spirit girl said, then she looked at Cop'lann, "How are we supposed to get through this without the Slayer?"

"What is a Slayer?" Cop'lann asked, but before he even had spoken the word he knew the answer. It was the girl he had seen in the vision, as she really was, as she was meant to be. A mighty huntress of daemons. A fierce foe of Chaos. A useful ally to have. Not as this useless Mon-keigh noble that she was now however.

Suddenly a daemon appeared from behind a tree, roaring, fangs bared and its claws raised to attack. Faster then was humanly possible Cop'lann drew forth his Shuriken pistol and aimed it at the creature. Spirit girl seemed distressed that he was going to shoot it and opened her mouth to protest.

But before she could say something Cop'lann pistol whipped the daemon in the face, then shot it in the foot. Crying in pain it then ran off.

As he watched the daemon run away it hit upon Cop'lann that spirit girl was right after all. These were not really Warp spawned daemons, vile servants of Chaos. They would not have given up so easily.

"What?" he said defiantly as he holstered his pistol as Spirit girl looked accusingly at him, "I let it live, didn't I?"

Then he noticed that the Mon-keigh girl, the useless one, while still frightened looked at him in awe.

"I suggest we get inside before we come across anything...," Cop'lann said, then a Mon-keigh vehicle came running past the street, its primitive engine roaring loudly as their occupants seemed desperate to get away from something.

"A DEMON! A DEMON!" the girl shrieked frightened as she clamored to get behind him, "A DEMON!"

"That's not a demon," the spirit girl tried to explain, "It's a car."

"What does it want?" the noble girl asked frightened.

"Is this Mon-keigh insane?" Cop'lann asked spirit girl.

"She's never seen a car," Spirit girl replied.

"She's never seen a vehicle before?" Cop'lann said surprised, "I have never seen one of these 'cars' before, but even I know a Mon-keigh vehicle when I see one."

Which wasn't a boast as human vehicles were always ugly and boxlike. They were all about purpose only and lacked both grace and style. Like they were made without a sense of pride. Which always struck him as odd considering that their artisans worshiped the technology they created.

"Yeah, but that's different," Spirit girl explained, "you see, you're from the future, she on the other hand is from the past. My past. I guess relative to you I'm from the past as well."

This was getting stranger and stranger, Cop'lann thought. Still, it was an interesting answer, worthy of the Eldar.

"We must get inside," Spirit girl said nervously, "we have to get to somewhere safe.".

Cop'lann leaned forward, until his face was very close to the spirit girl. He still could sense no deceit in her. Lots of other things, like worry and fear, but still truthfulness. Right now that was the only thing that kept him from telling her to fuck off and go his own way. That and she seemed to know things. Look who and what he was.

"I just want you to know that once we find a safe place you and I are going to have a serious talk, little Mon-keigh spirit. Now, where do we go?"

The spirit girl looked left and right for a moment, like she was trying to think off a place.

"We could go to her place," she finally said.

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As it turned out the place she meant was close by.

Unfortunately all the buildings he had seen so far seemed to be made from ramshackle materials. Made from organic plant material that seemed both highly thin and flammable. As a shelter in a war zone it seemed utterly laughable but since all other buildings seemed to be made from this same material it was the best he could hope for. And sometimes using stealth offered its own safety and protection. It was after all a strategy the Eldar used to great advantage.

As it turned out while the front door was locked, the back door was unlocked, so Cop'lann opened it and stepped inside.

"There does not appear to be anyone inside," he said, upon which the Mon-keigh noble and spirit girl followed him.

"Hello? Mrs. Summers?" the spirit girl still called out, but she got no reply, "Good, she's gone."

"I told you there was nobody here," Cop'lann said and closed the door behind them, "You did not need to doubt my abilities."

"I guess we're safe for now," the spirit girl said, ignoring his sarcasm.

"Where are we?" the Mon-keigh noble asked weary.

"Your place," the spirit girl sighed, sounding a little tired with the useless noble, "Now we just need to..."

"Now we are going to get some answers," Cop'lann stated matter of fact.

"Yeah but…." Spirit girl protested but Cop'lann but his finger close to her lips and shook his head.

"Answers now, freak later."

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He still couldn't believe it.

And yet the evidence was staring him right in the face.

The spirit girl called Willow had taken them to what she had called the living room. There she had told them a tale of how she and her two friends had dressed up as part of some strange Mon-keigh feast called Hell-o-ween. And that they had all become that which they had dressed for.

That the one called Willow had gone as what she called a ghost, a spirit of a deceased Mon-keigh. That the one called Buffy had gone dressed as a noble woman from what she called the 18th century. And that a boy called Xander had gone dressed as a Eldar Farseer.

It was utterly ridiculous!

Not even Chaos itself would spurt such absurd lies.

But he could still sense no deceit in her words.

And then she produced an image. An paper printed image of the three of them. The Mon-keigh noble was on it, with golden hair instead of her current raven black hair. Just like in the vision he had seen.

And there he was as well.

A mere Mon-keigh boy.

It was absurd.

There was no way he was a mere Mon-keigh.

Perish the thought alone!

And yet, somehow it made the most sense of all.

It also explained one other thing that had been bothering him ever since this 'adventure' had started. Why in Khaine's name was he trusting this Mon-keigh? Now he knew. Because deep down he was one too.

If he closed he eyes he swore he could actually hear Eldrad laugh his ass off.

Having explained to them what had happened the both of them had protested vehemently. Until Willow had shown them the picture.

Buffy, or whatever she was right now, she still seemed to be in denial. God, did Willow now truly detest that stupid dress and the stupid character it had turned her friend into.

Xander on the other hand, if she could read an Eldar Farseer at all, especially one who still wore his helmet, seemed to be more shaken. Like he finally believed her, but had trouble coming to terms with it. A case of Eldar arrogance and reality battling it out, with the winner being less then certain. Cause after all, Eldar arrogance….

Then he suddenly seemed to have come to a decision, placed both hands on his helmet and took it off. Half expecting him to look completely like somebody else she was surprised to see the same face that he always had. Well, not quite. His ears seemed to be way pointy. And his head seemed to be a little thinner, longer. His shaggy hair was gone, his head shaven bald, except for a single pony tail on top of his head.

He looked both more beautiful then ever and at same time utterly alien at the same time. She could see that Buffy was thinking the same thing as well, having that look of both awe and horror at the same time. Then again, she could see that it was just a little more awe then horror for comfort.

Aw come on, it really wasn't fair, Willow thought feeling a pang of jealousy, even when they were changed into their costumes they still made her fail like the fifth wheel.

He could tell by the looks on their faces that both Willow and the noble were both attracted and repulsed by his looks. Mon-keigh seemed to have that reaction when first confronted with the Eldar. Instinctively they seemed to recognize that despite the many outward commonalities between them they were still different. By now he was used to it.

"Alright," Cop'lann said, "So we are not who we think we are but the personas we created when we put on our so called costumes. We would appear to be on the Mon-keigh homeworld in the year 1997 according to the current Mon-keigh calendar."

"Why does he keep calling us monkeys?" the noble asked Willow curiously.

"Because to him all humans are just that. Men who evolved from monkeys," the spirit girl explained, "Unlike the Eldar, who were created by the Old Ones."

It still seemed odd how she knew so much about the Eldar, even though in this time and place the Eldar, the Imperium, the Orks, Chaos, well, basically everything was now part of what appeared to be a game.

And to make it even worse, in this game those pricks of Ulthwé had still gotten all the glory whereas Ill-Kaithe was barely even known!

If he closed his eyes he could almost hear the Eldar laughing god Cegorach laughing his ass off!

We fight almost all the battles and yet somehow in this game Ulthwé still managed to snatch all the glory!

"But I'm not an ape," the noble protested, "I am a lady of noble birth whose lineage goes back to Charlemagne. I am not some lowly commoner."

"Foolish Mon-keigh," Cop'lann said and handed the image to the noble, "You are not of noble birth. You are just this woman on this image. A mere creation of her imagination."

"No! I, I don't understand any of this!" the noble protested, "Uh, uh, th... This is some other girl! I would never wear this, that low apparel, and I don't like this place, and I don't like you, and I just wanna go home!"

"Mon-keigh nobles," Cop'lann spat contemptuously, "always the most useless of them all."

"Xander," Willow protested, "You are…."

"No!" Cop'lann protested, "I may accept your words. I may accept that I am my costume made manifest on this accursed Mon-keigh planet. But for now I am still Cop'lann, Farseer of Craftworld Il-Kaithe. I have fought more battles against the foul servants of Chaos then your tiny mind can comprehend, I have slain more Mon-keigh, both in service to the Ruinous Powers or to their Corpse-Emperor if need be, then you can possible imagine. I was there at the Fall of my people. Whoever this Xander is, I am not him right now. I therefore refuse to be called like him."

Neither of the two Mon-keigh girls said anything, then the noble began to cry.

"I want to go home," she sobbed in her hands

"You _are_ home," Willow said, then she turned towards Cop'lann, "She couldn't have dressed up like Xena?"

Cop'lann had no idea who this Xena was, but judging by her frustration and despair he imagined whoever this Xena was, she was probably somebody way more useful then the current noble so he shared her sentiment.

"Okay, we are the costumes that we decided to wear," he said, "How did we become our costumes?"

"I don't know," Willow said shaking her head, "Maybe Giles would know, all I know is that somehow everybody turned into their costumes. Maybe it's the Hellmouth…"

Oh?

Hellmouth?

This was getting better and better.

"What is this…., Hellmouth?" Cop'lann asked curious, upon which the girl began to explain. That it was some kind of portal to a daemon dimension. That it drew all sorts of daemons and those Mon-keigh looking mutants who sought to drink Mon-keigh blood to this place.

Great!

That explained why this place was giving him such a bad feeling.

The Mon-keigh homeworld had its own thrice damned Eye of Terror, located on its very surface and he was standing right in the middle of it! A place where the Materium and Immaterium apparently met.

And these idiots built a city on top of it?

How did this stupid species manage to survive for all this long?

xxxx

AN: _I hope I got the Imperial dating system right. Probably not. ;)_


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

'**Your song shall guide me'**

x

* * *

x

AN: _Again apologies for the delay in posting, I again got sidetracked in stuff. Not the least of which is what shaping up to be another BtVS/W40K crossover. Not related to this story though. _

_Darkangelmanz: Only a millennium off? D'oh! Could have been worse I guess, still sloppy though. Ah well, it won't play any further part in this story. _

_Dracomancer1 & Harbinger: I firmly believe that the key to a good BtVS crossover story is maintaining some of the tongue in cheek that the series had. It always saddens me when fanfic authors turn their characters so serious. I know its asking too much for most authors to replicate that Whedon whit, especially since the series is a team collaboration and most fanfic authors are on their own. But it never hurts to have fun with the characters. As for other fun stuff of 40K showing up, not really. In the end this is a BtVS Halloween fic. And sometimes less is more too. Only sometimes. ;)_

x

* * *

x

Cop'lann had just heard that he was standing in what would appear to be some kind of miniature Eye of Terror on the Mon-keigh homeworld, when from outside the house came a loud scream.

The scream caused the noble to reach out and grab his arm, as if to look for comfort and protection. The spirit of Willow on the other hand went to the window and looked outside.

"Ohmigod! It's Cordelia," she said aghast, "And she's being chased by a monster!"

"You say that name as if it has meaning to me," Cop'lann said, "You keep forgetting that while I may look like your…. Xander, I am not him. Why should I care if some Mon-keigh gets chased and dies outside?"

Willow looked wide eyed at Cop'lann.

"Cause Cordelia is like…., well, I wouldn't call her a friend, but she's come through for us occasionally. Sometimes."

"So she is an ally then?" Cop'lann said as he understood, "And you want me to save her?"

"Preferably without killing the monster," Willow smiled nervously.

"Alright," Cop'lann said, put his helmet back on and stood up, "As usual I must save you Mon-keigh yet again from yourself."

Cop'lann opened the door, pulled forth his witchblade and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. This caused Buffy to run up to Willow.

"Surely he'll not desert us?" she said nervously.

"Whatever," Willow said dismissively, not for the last time wondering why on Earth Buffy couldn't have dressed as something more useful instead.

Like Wonder Woman.

Or Lara Croft.

x

* * *

x

Cordelia was running for her life.

This being Sunnydale this was not an activity that she was completely unfamiliar with.

Of course this time it didn't help that this time she was running wearing high heels.

From a friggin' Sasquatch!

"Somebody help me!" she yelled once again. Looking back over her shoulder she saw the monster had gained upon her.

Not good!

Not good!

Screaming again she turned her head.

Only to almost walk straight into a large standing figure dressed in green robes with a purple trim and wearing a conical helmet.

Did she also mention that he was carrying a big ass sword.

Which somehow almost seemed to be singing.

Like he was frakkin' Bruce Lee himself the figure effortless evaded her crashing into him as he sidestepped her, spun around and then his sword lashed out, it's tip slashing into the Sasquatch's chest, carving a diagonal wound.

Screaming in pain the monster stopped, the slash wasn't deep enough to cause serious injury, but deep enough to really hurt the creature, then it turned and ran away, yelping in pain.

"Come with me if you want to live!" her rescuer said in a tone of voice that sounded almost musical.

And also strangely familiar.

"Sure," Cordelia said shaken as she let herself be taken in by her mysterious rescuer into what appeared to be the home of Buffy Summers. Pushing her inside her rescuer closed the door behind them and locked the door.

"Are you crazy!" Willow yelled as she yelled at Cordelia's rescuer, "You could have killed him."

"He will live," her rescuer shrugged indifferent and walked past Willow and Cordelia to the living room, where he took off his helmet, "Do not annoy me right now, spirit, for my head has started to ache."

Only to reveal that he was that dweeb, Xander Harris.

And yet he wasn't.

Gone was his shaggy hair, replaced by a single pony tail on a bald head, which seemed to have lost all the accumulated fat from eating all those Twinkies. And the ears…..

Turning to Willow Cordelia spoke.

"Wait a..., what's going on?"

"Okay, your name is Cordelia," Willow explained, "you're not a cat, you're in high

school, and we're your friends. Well, sort of."

"That's nice, Willow," Cordelia said impatient, "And you went mental when?"

Her outburst caused Willow to look at her funny and Xander to stop and turn around as well.

"You know us?" Willow asked surprised.

"Yeah. Lucky me," Cordelia said dismissive, "What's with the name game?"

"A lot's going on," Willow tried to say but she got interrupted by Cordelia.

"No kidding. I was just attacked by Jo-Jo, the Dog-Faced Boy. Look at my costume! Do you really think that Partytown's gonna give me my deposit back? Not on the likely."

"You…., you are still yourself?" Xander asked her, still in that strange almost musical tone of voice.

"Yeah, why shouldn't I be?" Cordelia said, upon which Xander turned towards Willow.

"Why did she not change into her costume?" Xander asked in that strange melodic voice, "She looks like something the Ordo Xenos would purge with Holy Fire."

"What's with pointy eared dweeb boy," Cordelia asked, "And why's Buffy sitting there on the couch looking all useless?"

"Long story short, people all over town have changed into the costumes they were wearing," Willow explained curt, not having the patience to argue with Cordelia, "And these two idiots changed into their costumes."

"Oh," Cordelia said as she understood, then she shrugged, "What are they supposed to be?"

"Buffy's some useless noble woman from the 18th century," Willow said, then she looked oddly at Xander, "and Xander's a…., well, why don't you tell her who you are?"

"I am Farseer Cop'lann, from Craftworld Il-Kaithe," Xander said, "I am Eldar."

Cordelia looked him over, then she shrugged again.

"Well, at least you're no longer useless."

x

* * *

x

As he walked the streets of Sunnydale several people ran past him screaming, being chased by monsters.

"Well, this is…. neat," Spike said with a big shit eating grin on his face.

x

* * *

x

"Okay. You guys stay here while I get some help," the Willow spirit said, "If something

tries to get in, just fight it off."

"Well, i-it's not our place to fight," the useless noble who used to be Buffy said, "Uh, surely some men will protect us?"

She eyed a little too much for comfort at Cop'lann. And oddly, a part of him, no doubt that of the human boy inside of him, seemed to welcome that.

"What's with that riff?" the new human with the feline dress called Cordelia asked Willow.

"I-it's like amnesia, okay?" Willow tried to explain, "They don't know who they are. Just sit tight."

"Who died and made her the boss?" Cordelia said as she looked around, only for Willow to walk through the wall behind her, causing Buffy to stare in wide-eyed amazement.

"You!" Cop'lann said towards Cordelia, "Check upstairs. Make sure everything's locked up."

Something about this version of Xander made Cordelia not protest his words. This version of Xander meant business. So she nodded and went upstairs. Much to Cop'lann's relief as he felt his mood improve as soon as she disappeared from view. Something about the girl was rubbing off wrongly on him. Perhaps she and his host were engaged in some kind of bitter feud?

As Buffy the noble watched the strangely and sluttily dressed Cordelia go upstairs she turned towards Cop'lann.

"Surely there's somewhere else we can go, great knight, a safer haven?" she asked him.

"The Mon-keigh Spirit Girl said you were better off staying here," Cop'lann said unperturbed.

"You would take orders from a woman?" Buffy the useless noble said surprised, "A-are you feeble in some way?"

That was the wrong thing to say and Cop'lann glared angrily at the feeble girl.

"I know many female Farseers of prominence. Not the least of which are Macha from Biel-Tan, Taldeer from Ulthwé and Ela'Ashbel from Kaelor. When the hand of fate calls, it does not halt for gender. Maybe the question you should ask yourself, little Mon-keigh, why do you let your own men dominate you into being this useless? Maybe _you_ are the one feeble of mind and soul?"

"I am not!" Buffy the useless noble protested, "I was brought up a proper lady. I-I wasn't meant to understand things. I'm just meant to look pretty, and then someone nice will marry me. Possibly a Baron."

"I have known Mon-keigh nobles like you," Cop'lann shrugged, then he turned around and walked to the dinner table, "And guess what, I'd pick the lowliest Mon-keigh from their Imperial Guard to fight beside over your kind each and every time. The only thing your kind is good for is dying and making others die for them. I suppose you're not going to lift a finger to defend yourself tonight?"

"Fight these low creatures?" Buffy the useless noble scoffed incredulously, "I'd sooner die."

Cop'lann said nothing, but let out a loud derisive snort, followed by something that sounded suspiciously much like 'useless Mon-keigh nobles'. Then he sat down by the table.

"What are you going to do?" Buffy the useless noble asked.

"Foul Chaos trickery has placed us in these bodies," Cop'lann said and took a set of colored stones that had been hanging around his neck, "It also seems to be interfering with my vision. No doubt this Mouth of Hell the spirit mentioned. Therefore I must try to pierce the veil, divine the future and see how to counter it."

"What do you mean?" she asked curious, "Like a gypsy? I once met a gypsy at a carnival who had this crystal ball who told me my future. She said I would one day meet a very powerful man from very far away."

"There are human psykers who are known to have visions of the future. But their talent is erratic," Cop'lann said and began to roll the stones on the table, "At best they only get a single glance of the future. Never able to explore many paths of potential futures."

"What are those?" Buffy the useless noble said as she reached out and tried to grab one of his stones.

"Don't!" Cop'lann said adamant as he grabbed her wrist.

"You're hurting me," Buffy the useless noble winced as she felt her wrist almost being crushed in his iron grip.

"Then do not reach for the stones," Cop'lann said resolute and let go, "Not ever! Now go sit over there and be quiet. Lest your babble causes me to read my timelines wrong."

x

* * *

x

You know, despite her being the Slayer Buffy Summers' room looked remarkably normal, Cordelia thought after having secured the window in said room. She figured she must have had weapons lying all over the place, whole chests and cupboards full of them. Instead it was just a regular teenage girl's room.

Shaking her head at this remarkable epiphany Cordelia left Buffy's room and made for the stairs to go downstairs again. There she saw Xander the alien playing some game of alien dice on the table, with Buffy watching intently, like they were playing Dungeons and Dragons or something and he was making a move against her character.

"Well, upstairs' safe, thanks for asking," she said snide, "or helping for that matter."

"Secure the kitchen then," Xander said dismissive, not taking his eyes of his alien dice.

"Couldn't you have done it yourself?" Cordelia countered.

"I am busy," Xander shrugged indifferent.

"Playing Dungeons and Dragons?" Cordelia said angry, "Outgeeking Buffy?"

"The kitchen," Xander stated matter of fact. Causing Cordelia to fume inwardly. Xander came that close to getting power scolded, but at the last minute she turned around and made for the kitchen, muttering nasty things softly under her breath.

In the kitchen everything seemed normal so she briefly stopped by the fridge to get something to drink. More out of protest at Xander's piggish behavior then because she was actually thirsty. Taking out a diet coke she then began to check the locks on the windows.

It was then that the door opened, causing Cordelia to drop her can and reach for a nearby knife. Only to find that it was Angel.

"Are you going to stab me with that?" Angel asked and pointed to her short knife, something more suited to peel potatoes then hurt people with. Let alone vampires.

"I guess not," Cordelia said and put the knife back on the counter, then she began to smile. This ruined evening had somehow managed to deliver her a windfall though, with her rival Buffy now more or less 'incapacitated' she had the playing field in regards to Angel to herself now.

"So, Angel," Cordelia said softly after Angel had closed the door behind him and she nestled herself beside him, "What brings you around here?"

"Actually I was hoping that Bu…," Angel said, then he stopped and gave her an odd look, "You know who I am? You're still….yourself?"

"Oh, I'm 100% myself," she whispered in his ear, "in every way that matters."

"So, you're not….," Angel said and stepped aside, creating some distance between them, "I, um, mean, your costume?"

"Like the other dweebs?" Cordelia said a little annoyed that Angel was resisting her advances, "No, I'm just me."

"And Buffy?" Angel asked worried, "I saw people turn into their costumes all over town and I know she was getting dressed tonight. Is she….., alright?"

"Well, her body is," Cordelia said rueful, "I'm not sure where her mind is though. I think she got dumber or something."

"Did she….., has she turned into her costume?" Angel asked.

"Oh yeah," Cordelia shrugged, then she smiled again and put her finger on his face, sliding it down slowly following Angel's facial contours, "You know, this might be an opportunity you know. What happens on Halloween, stays on Halloween. Buffy needn't know because, well, she's not really here."

"I have to see her," Angel said and again sidestepped Cordelia, "Is she here?"

"Yeah, she's here," Cordelia sighed, "She's in the dining room with dweeb boy. Playing some kind of alien Dungeon's and Dragons."

Angel walked past here and went to the dining room, with Cordelia in his wake.

"Buffy!" he said hopeful as he entered the dining room.

But instead of finding Buffy and Xander he found them both gone and a fell wind blowing in from the front door that was wide open.

x

* * *

x

AN: _And this is where things will go AU. Originally I had Cop'lann follow Willow to speak with Giles. But then I thought that A: there wasn't much really going on that made things really different from canon other then different costumes, and B: it meant more rehashing the original script. And the more you do that, the less you deviate from canon into a really interesting story that's different._


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

'**Shall I divine your next move?'**

x

AN: _A little stylistic change for this chapter._

* * *

The strands of Fate are woven through time and space. She weaves her grand tapestry to a design nobody knows, not even to the best of Farseers, who at best can only see a minute part of her grand tapestry.

But even a minute overview can still tell a lot, especially to the best of Farseers.

x

_Behold a strand of time where the Mon-keigh spirit girl races towards her trusted Librarian, hopeful that he might have answers where she has none._ _Unfortunately for her just bad news and lots of questions awaits._

x

Back at the library Giles was busy re-indexing the library card catalog. It was a job that he had long put off on the account of, well, the usual Sunnydale hijinks always happening, but it was also a job that he felt was long overdue. And since Halloween was the quietest time of the year this offered an excellent opportunity too good to miss.

He was so engrossed in his cataloguing that he didn't notice the screaming and the sirens going on outside in the distance. It was only when a wailing police car passed by real close to the Library that he finally noticed. Then, before he could get up and look to see what was going on Willow entered the library.

Running through the walls that is.

"Jeez!" Giles exclaimed loudly as he jumped up and spilled a stack of cards all over the place. There went at least an hour's worth of work.

"Hi," Willow said sheepishly as she came to a stop in front of his desk. She then proceeded to tell him what had happened. And what was happening outside. Which of course led to the only possible follow up. Him reaching for stacks and stacks of old books, placing them in front of her, then he went inside the cage to get even more books and papers. The even older ones.

After some searching Giles found what he was looking for, a stack of really old papers in the back, covered in dust. Blowing the dust off he emerged from the cage.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for," she said staring in dejection at the books in front of her, "plus I can't turn a single page."

"Well, alright, l-let's, let's, let's review," Giles said as he put the papers on the table, "Um, so everybody became, uh, whatever they were masquerading as?"

"Right," Willow nodded, "Xander was an Eldar Farseer and Buffy was an 18th-century girl."

"Right," Giles nodded, then he looked at Willow, "A-and, uh, your, your costume?"

"I'm a ghost!" she said like it was supposed to be obvious.

"Yes," Giles said somewhat incredulously, "Um... w, uh, uh, uh, the ghost of what, exactly?"

Seeing that Giles was referring to her general nakedness below and above her skirt Willow immediately covered up her midriff.

"Well, this is nothing," she said defensively, "You should see what Cordelia was wearing. A, a, a unitard with cat things, like ears and stuff. And heels!"

"Good heavens," Giles exclaimed horrified, "Uh, sh-sh-she became an actual feline?"

"No!," she said shaking her head, "She was the same old Cordelia. Just in a cat costume."

"So she didn't change?" Giles said surprised.

"No," Willow said, then her eyes lit up, "Hold on... Partytown. She told us she got her outfit from Partytown."

"A-a-and everyone who changed, they, they, they, they acquired their costumes where?" Giles asked.

"We all got ours at a new place. Ethan's!" Willow said, causing Giles' eyes to grow big as saucers, "Do you think there's a connection?"

"Maybe we should ask ourselves, how can there n-n-not be one?" Giles countered, then his eyes narrowed, "Ethan? Good God. Tell me, t-this Ethan, did he speak English?"

"Well, he wasn't from Mexico if that's what you're asking," Willow said a little puzzled, causing Giles to close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"A-allow me to rephrase the, uh, um, question," Giles said, "Did he speak the Queens English or your miserable Colonial dialect?"

"He, uh, English English, like you do," Willow replied.

"That's it, w-we're going," Giles said and grabbed his coat, "Damn you, Ethan! What are you up too!"

"You know him?" Willow asked as Giles stormed out of the library and she gave chase.

"Unfortunately, yes," Giles said grim.

x

* * *

x

_In another strand of time the ensouled Mon-keigh daemon with a soul (the very idea alone!) had left the safety of the building he was in to come looking for the useless noble. _

_How foolish off him. Not the least reason of which was because his love for her would ultimately doom them both, cause his downfall and irreparably break her heart. _

_Then again love is a passion that the Eldar also share, feel extremely passionate about. So it is to be expected._

x

"You sure this is a good idea?" Cordelia said for the umpteenth time as she tottered behind Angel as they both walked through the streets.

Of course Angel didn't respond. As he hadn't for the umpteenth times before. His mind was focused on only one thing.

_Buffy!_

From what he had gathered from Cordelia she had changed completely into an 18th century noblewoman. There was really nothing of Buffy Summers inside left. Which was swell. Really swell!

Out of all the costumes she could have picked she chose the most useless one. What the hell was she thinking?

Still, it could have been worse, he thought with a shudder. At least she was still human.

Pausing momentarily Angel tried to get a bearing of where she had gone, a smell, anything.

Which was hard because with the magic change her smell had also changed. She might as just as well been a completely different person physically altogether. On the plus side though, personal hygiene had been almost completely negligent in the 18th century, with even nobles stinking up to high heaven like the lowest commoner. That's why they preferred to douse themselves in strong perfumes.

Back at Buffy's home he hadn't gotten a chance to smell Buffy as she was now. But there had been a lingering smell of perfume. A perfume he hadn't smelled for more then two centuries. This faint smell was now his only clue looking for Buffy.

And Xander as well.

Normally he would be worried that his rival in regards to Buffy had gone off with her. Of course he was never much of a rival to begin with. That much had already been established long ago.

Which in a way was bad because Xander was a good kid who deserved better. And he did save Buffy's life after the Master had tried to kill her.

No, Xander the rival was no worry.

Xander the alien however…..

From what little he could gather from Cordelia Xander had become some alien warrior, giving her, as she said it, the creeps? With also a penchant for giving orders and playing with alien dice. Wicked with the sword though. So she was probably safe in his company from others.

The thing is though, why would an alien warrior want to drag the most useless human in Sunnydale right now along? Why burden himself with her? Unless he had some nefarious purpose? With her….

Especially since he strongly doubted it had to be because somehow Xander's puppy love had carried over into this new character what if it really was something more nefarious?

No, he had to find Buffy, just to be safe.

Meanwhile as he tried to get a bearing behind him Cordelia came to a stop.

"Can you at least wait a minute so I can take these shoes off? These heels are killing me!"

x

* * *

x

_Behold another strand, of the Mon-keigh turned mutant, Drusilla, a mild psyker by the standards of the 41__st__ millennium. But for a human she has reasonable powers of prophetic abilities. Nothing like an Eldar Farseer, who can see many strands of time and is both cursed and blessed with the ability to select which strand to take for the most favorable outcome._

_No, this particular mutant can only see forward down a single strand. She can see what will happen and she can chose to act upon that. Or not. But she cannot fully see what the consequences of her actions will be. It's a flawed form of vision and the only one that human psykers seem capable off. It's what probably leads them down the many ruinous paths that they take. _

x

Sitting by a table Drusilla was playing with her tarot cards. For now the voices were strangely silent, even Miss Edith gone. This was not something that Drusilla had grown to like. The voices were her friends, her constant companions. Them suddenly being absent was like sudden silence after having heard a symphony orchestra for most of your life. Extremely disconcerting to most people and especially to the likes of Drusilla, who was already quite mad as a hatter to begin with.

With Spike gone outside and his remaining minions generally both fearful and avoidant of Drusilla she sought comfort in her tarot cards. Maybe they could tell her what the voices were now unwilling to tell her.

Having shuffled her deck Drusilla began to draw seven cards and put them on the table in a semi-circle. Putting away the rest of her deck she turned over the first card

The Queen of Wands, representing the past.

The queen has charisma, passion, she draws others to her like moths to a flame.

The next card, representing the present, the Knight of Swords.

The knight represents a time of rapid change, also a person too smart for his own good. A person who likes to run his mouth off to too many people at once.

On to the next card representing influences, the Moon.

The moon represents visions and illusions, mental breakthroughs, creativity, powerful magic.

For a moment Drusilla halted and looked to the outside. Yes, even in here she could tell that something was going on outside. Something powerful. Like Miss Edith had foretold. Then she returned her attention to her cards and overturned the next one, representing obstacles.

Knight of Wands. Again a sign that things were changing, and changing rapidly.

Slowly she overturned her fifth card, the one representing expectations.

Ten of Swords. Murder. A time of ending. Of ideas, of mindsets, and sometimes people.

There were only two cards left, representing best course of action and likely outcomes. She overturned the sixth card.

The Lovers. A difficult card to interpret. Some said it was about what it said it was. About lovers, people in love, or at least one person in love, with someone or something.

There was also a different interpretation for the Lovers. About it being about choice. A choice that has to be made. Between two potential lovers. Or ideas.

Finally she came to the last card and turned it over.

The Hanged Man, hanging upside down from a tree by his foot. A card of many meanings. Some said it referred to traitors, who in ancient times were hung upside down by one foot. Another that it referred to a child, upside down in the womb, ready to be born yet still hanging by its umbilical cord. Comparisons were drawn to the myth of Odin who sacrificed himself for knowledge, hanging upside down from the World Tree for nine days.

This was a card about suspension though, not life or death. About one thing having ended and the next thing not yet having begun yet, about being stuck in a waiting room. Things will continue on in a moment, but for now they float, timelessly.

Looking at the cards Drusilla tried to make sense of it all. What were they trying to tell her?

x

_Yes, the Mon-keigh psyker did have strong predictive psychic abilities. To bad for her she could only see the strand that was ahead of her, not the many choices that her foreknowledge might take her. _

_Still, it didn't do to well to underestimate this limited human psychic ability. After all, it had served them well in the past to derail many a carefully laid out plan of the Eldar. Just because you could not see the many paths that an Eldar Farseer could take didn't mean you still couldn't see the path that a Farseer finally would take._

x

* * *

x

_Strand of time, Buffy's place, now deserted._

_But not for long. _

x

CRASH!

As the brick came through the front window it was soon followed by three little monsters, followed by two more, who immediately began to ransack the place.

Standing outside Spike lit another cigarette and took a deep draught. From inside the house came various noises of stuff breaking but he ignored that. The Slayer, or whatever she was now wasn't here. He didn't have to go inside to know that. Of course that would have been kinda hard as he wasn't able to go inside without an invitation.

Luckily the minions, victims of whatever magic had struck this place, where under no such compunctions, as many of them weren't even monsters that really existed in this world, thus the normal paranormal rules that existed didn't even apply to them.

Was this night awesome or not?

Never in his entire life had he a seen a town gripped in the kind of mayhem that it currently was. He had seen towns and cities gripped in horror after he, Angelus and the girls had torn it apart, he had seen towns and cities gripped in war, like Beijing during the Boxer Rebellion. This was different though.

Usually in the old days it took at least some time to get things to fall apart, at least a few days. This however happened overnight!

This night was so awesome!

It hadn't taken him much effort to gather up a mob of minions. Many of these humans turned into monsters may now have the chops, but they still lacked the balls. Especially the little kids turned monsters. One thing all demons did however, no matter if they were native or Halloween created, was that they instinctively recognized who had the biggest set of stones and either fought, buggered off or submitted themselves accordingly.

And Spike very much had the biggest pair of stones in all of Sunnydale. That much was clear.

There was more ransacking coming from inside the Slayer's home, but Spike was already losing interest. While it was fun wrecking her home out of spite, if he didn't find her and kill her tonight all he had accomplished was just delivering a minor nuisance. Like flipping her off from a distance.

She had to be around here somewhere. And she had to be changed. Because if there was one thing he had learned from the Slayer it was that she wasn't going to sit around and do nothing while people were getting slaughtered all over town. And if she was changed she had to be changed for the better.

Better for him that is, meaning easier to kill. Cause if she had changed for the worst he'd met her by now. And so far there had been only three of the people who had changed that he had avoided like the proverbial plague. Even though he had to admit they were fucking cool in their own right.

"Alright, you buggers," Spike yelled as he threw away his cigarette, "Playtime's over. Common, we've got ourselves a Slayer to kill."

Then Spike walked away with his little minions in tow.

x

_Yes, this particular little Mon-keigh mutant called Spike could be very troublesome. Very troublesome indeed. But also a great pawn to be used in the future._

x

* * *

x

_We come to our final strand of time, as the little human spirit girl and her Librarian finally reach Ethan's place._

x

Well, he had to hand it to him, Giles thought as he looked around Ethan's Costume Shop, whoever he was this Ethan had managed to clean out his stocks. Very few costumes were left.

Which explained why there were so many bloody monster freaks about in Sunnydale right now.

Yeah, now that he'd seen his handiwork it had all the hallmarks of a classic Ethan Rayne move.

Or prank.

Or both.

Knowing him it was probably both.

But why come here?

Surely Ethan knew that he was here, overseeing the Slayer here at the Hellmouth. He wasn't that stupid. Ethan was, thirst for senseless mayhem aside, very thorough.

"Hello! Anyone home?" Willow called out behind him.

"Don't bother, Willow," Giles said, "It would appear that this, um, uh, Ethan's long gone."

"Are you sure?" Willow asked.

"Oh, I think if this Ethan fellow was still around we'd met him by now," Giles said confidently, "He's gone alright. The question is….., where?"

Willow wanted to say something, but then she saw something, a curtain not completely closed. Putting her hand through the curtain she tried to open it but to no avail as her hand slipped just right through it.

Sticking her head through she saw that she was looking into the backroom.

"Giles…," Willow called out, causing Giles to turn around and come towards her, pulling open the curtain.

The backroom of the shop looked nothing like the backroom of a shop. Instead of a supply room it looked more like voodoo grand central at rush hour. Burning candles and magic paraphernalia were everywhere.

"Is this…..?" Willow said.

"Yes, I'm afraid," Giles said as he felt a strong sinking feeling in his gut, "This is w-where the sp-pell was wrought."

"Then we can end it, right?" Willow asked hopeful.

"If w-we can f-find the, uh, focal point," Giles said nervously, "And knowing Ethan….."

On a small table, surrounded by candles there was an empty circle. Like something should have been there. The two of them came closer until they stood next to the table.

"It's gone, isn't?" Willow asked as she saw the look of disappointment on Giles' face.

"Yes," Giles nodded, "Damn y-you Ethan! Where did you take it? H-he could be anywhere right now."

As Giles raged impotently Willow turned around slowly.

"Uh, Giles," she said softly.

"What, Willow?" Giles asked as he looked at Willow.

"I don't think he left at all, Giles," Willow said with a look of pure horror and pointed to a section of the wall behind him.

There, hanging from spikes nailed through his arms and legs hung the dead body of Ethan Rayne, bloodied from too many wounds to count, many of them charred as if from poked with a very hot object, with a gaping wound in his side that seemed clearly the direct cause of his death. And a strange eight pointed star carved in his forehead.

As soon as she saw the eight pointed star Willow began to gasp.

"Ohmigod!" she said horrified and took a step backwards, through the table that is.

"What? You recognize that symbol?" Giles asked, "You have to t-tell me. Who ever killed Ethan t-took the focal point. Without it w-we can't….."

Suddenly the backdoor opened, the one for deliveries, and in came Angel and Cordelia.

"Buffy!" Angel said worried, "Is she here?"

"She's not at her home?" Willow asked.

"Newsflash! We just came from there," Cordelia butted in, "the Princess of Uselessness skipped bail on us."

"Didn't Xander try to stop her or something?" Willow asked.

"I think he took her with him," Angel said, "Whatever he's after, he took her here, I can smell her perfume."

"Xander came here?" Giles said shocked, then he took off his glasses and pulled forth a polishing cloth as he turned towards Willow, "Willow, that costume that Xander was wearing, what exactly was it?"

Before she could answer there was a whooshing sound.

Actually, there were three whooshing sounds.

As they looked aside in the doorway to the shop stood Jonathan and two other kids that Willow vaguely remembered from school. And they were wearing brown robes.

And had active lightsabers.

They were Jedi Knights.

"God, it's the nerd brigade," Cordelia sighed in disgust.

x

* * *

x

Yes, the strands of time can be woven in many unexpected ways. But they cannot be kept at bay indeterminately. A choice has to be made and then the chosen strand gets woven into the tapestry of time.

As he walked through the streets of the Terran town of Sunnydale Cop'lann felt heavy in his heart. The choice had been made.

Some said that making the actual choice to select the right course of action was the hardest part of being a Farseer. Those people were usually not Farseers.

No, the hardest part was having made your choice and then hoping that everything went ahead as predicted.

Just as planned!

At least that's what they secretly hoped as Fate could still be a fickle mistress, even to the best of Farseers!

With the useless noble/girl still in his wake Cop'lann made for his final destination. He had lots of work still left to do. But as he now had control of the glowing idol of this dimension's Chaos God he knew that at least now he had given himself enough time.

Time to hope his plan would work out, 'just as planned!'.

x

AN: _Told you I was going AU. _


End file.
